


First Impressions

by secretagentfan



Category: Harvest Moon and Story of Seasons Series (Video Games), 牧場物語つながる新天地 | Story of Seasons (Video Game 2014)
Genre: A Brand New Season Zine, F/M, Mistel being petty, References Mistel's first heart event
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-28
Updated: 2020-10-28
Packaged: 2021-03-08 19:14:46
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,092
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27251773
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/secretagentfan/pseuds/secretagentfan
Summary: Annie carries frogs in her backpack. Living frogs. She also jumps in rivers, and seems to be coated in a different layer of mud every time Mistel sees her.He's not a fan.Two different years, two different spring mornings.Written for A Brand New Season Zine!
Relationships: Farmer/Mistel (Story of Seasons)
Comments: 9
Kudos: 19
Collections: A Brand New Season





	First Impressions

**Author's Note:**

> I love Mistel what a petty dweeb.

SPRING 5TH YEAR ONE

She was hurtling toward the shop, jogging like a muddy pole-vaulter. (Why did she never _walk_?) 20 feet away now. 15 feet. Mistel shut the curtains, turned out the lights. He peeked through the peephole on the front door. 10 feet. _How_ was she so fast? 

Fifteen minutes ago, Mistel had seen her pick a frog off the ground and put it in her backpack. The image was burned into his retinas. She had dashed somewhere else, but now she was back, and heading closer still. 5 feet.

Mistel locked the door seconds before the knob moved. It clicked uselessly, barely turning from side to side. Mistel cursed under his breath, and threw a glance at the wall clock: 5:30pm. Half an hour left of his work day. What was he doing, locking her out? He should open the door. Should let the farmer in. 

Another knock.

He was being petty. Ridiculous. She was a customer, looking to shop, possibly looking to purchase something but. But that _skirt_ she was wearing. There was dirt all over it! There was a frog in her bag! What if it escaped? 

Benefit: It could break the customer feedback jar. Mistel wouldn't mind that. But it could also break something important.

Maybe she would just leave. Mistel stayed silent. Prayed.

Knock.

"Iris? Mistel? Yoo-hoo! Are you there?"

What kind of person even said "Yoo-hoo" anymore? Mistel resolved himself to his fate. 

"Hello, Annie," he offered, soul empty.

"Mistel!" She sounded so upbeat Mistel wanted to lay down. "The door's stuck, I think!"

"It is locked, actually," Mistel scrambled for excuses, looking around him. His eyes kept falling the feedback jar. Ugh. "Unfortunately, we are closed."

Of course, now was the time that Iris decided to wander down the stairs, notebook in hand. She looked at Mistel, at his back pressed against locked shop door, and raised an eyebrow.

"Oh, you closed early?" Annie asked, blissfully unaware.

"Just– hm, just for this evening. I am afraid I have the most dreadful–" Mistel looked pleadingly at Iris – _do not say anything_ – he willed with his eyes. "Spring...cold."

 _Do you now?_ Iris mouthed.

 _Please._ Mistel mouthed back. He faked a cough, but the heat in his face was all real.

"I thought I was the only one who got colds in the spring! It's all this changing weather, what a nightmare. Not that I've been here that long, I don't really know _how_ the weather changes here..."

A small thunk, near Mistel's left elbow. Was Annie...leaning against the door as well? Just...shooting the breeze outside of the "closed" antique shop with a dirt-caked skirt and a _living frog in her backpack_?

"Haha...yes," Mistel replied. Iris was losing it, but at least she kept a hand over her mouth to muffle her laughs.

"Well, I hope you feel better Mistel! I'll bring you by some soup or something tomorrow. Oh wait, I don't have a kitchen yet. When I get a kitchen, I'll bring you some soup, okay?"

In the time it would take for Annie to receive a kitchen, Mistel’s fictitious disease would surely be gone. He did not point this out. “Wonderful, I will look forward it.”

“It really is terrible that you’re ill though.”

She sounded so disappointed. Mistel didn't know what to do about that. The feeling sat in the pit of his stomach: a strange little weight. His hand hovered over the latch.

"Well, I'll see you around then, Mistel!"

His hand fell. "Until then."

Mistel waited a few moments, before peering through the small break in the curtains. Annie was little more than a muddy jogging figure in the distance. He pressed the back of his head against the door and stared at the ceiling as if it would give him answers.

"About this spring cold..." Iris teased. "Love troubles?"

Mistel's face twisted. "With _Annie?_ Iris. I draw no enjoyment from pointing out this fact, but that girl is, simply put, a disaster."

Iris's mouth quirked. "You know Mistel, for all your usual maturity, you can be awfully judgmental. I personally find Annie to be quite charming. She's odd, yes, but sharp as a tack if you ask her the right questions."

"The fact that you had to qualify her 'sharpness' does not speak as well of her as you hope."

He pushed off from the door. Might as well polish the storefront now that they were closed. The tip of one of Iris's nails poked his forehead as he passed by her.

"You're describing everyone in this town, not to mention the rest of the globe."

He waved her off, wrapping a worn cleaning cloth around his hand. It smelled nice: dusty and comforting.

Iris spoke louder, "And, my self-involved little brother, you're describing yourself, too.”

Mistel stopped wiping the counter. "I am not."

“You just smiled at a dust cleaning cloth. Would you happen to know of any other young men that carry such a deep fondness for old aging things and mothballs?"

"That's different. I saw Annie dive in the river and pull out a brick like it was some sort of treasure. If that girl is a reflection of the 'rest of the globe', I fear for our future.”

"If Annie is," Iris replied, wearing the sort of smile that made Mistel incredibly nervous. "I think you should look forward to it."

* * *

SPRING 5TH YEAR 2

Mistel was covered in mud. He was going to die here, in Annie's field, holding a bag of turnip seeds.

"Are you okay!?" Annie asked. She was laughing, which was adorable, but Mistel was going to die here.

“I am quite alright,” Mistel lied, and accepted his girlfriend’s hand. Annie’s fingers were as soft as her palm was rough: hardened by hours of working the fields. More importantly: _both_ their hands were covered in mud, which made something very pathetic in the back of Mistel’s head scream forever.

“Ah,” Mistel articulated, now properly upright. “Mud everywhere. How appealing.”

“Farming’s a dirty job! Still I really didn’t expect you to fall over so fast.”

“Believe me, it was not intentional,” Mistel grouched. He always knew Annie threw him off balance– he just hadn’t been aware of how literal that fact was until now.

“I just—” Annie kept laughing. “Your face! It was so…!”

“Oh, do _go on_.”

Annie’s loud laughter trailed off into a half-guilty giggle. “Sorry. I shouldn’t make fun of you. I know this is out of your comfort zone, and you’ve been doing really well, really!”

“Annie, I planted one handful of seeds and tripped over a stump.”

“Okay, but—I probably should have cleared away that stump earlier. Interference! Wasn’t you.”

In spite of himself, Mistel found a smile on his face. She was preposterous on so many levels, and yet, Annie just kept going. Boldly, ridiculously. It drove him crazy.

“Thank you, but I think that’s enough farming for my ego today. Why don’t you show me how it’s done? I’m certain it will be an elegant display.”

Annie snorted, but Mistel kept his gaze locked on her, straight-faced. It wasn’t long before the smile on her face tightened at the edges and she squirmed a bit, as if to say ‘wait, really?’. Mistel only grinned and slipped his mud-covered hands in his pockets. He raised his eyebrows, as if waiting for a show. Her movements grew increasingly larger and more awkward. For a girl as gregarious as she was; she was just as easy to fluster. Mistel loved it.

“With you staring at me like that, how am I supposed to do anything?”

“Ah, now you understand how I feel when you come into the shop and start ‘helping’ me…”

Annie grabbed the seeds from his hand, rolling her eyes. “I take back my defending you earlier: you’re terrible at this, and you’re mean.”

“You’re adorable,” Mistel replied. Annie, red-faced again, poured the turnip seeds over the soil. As frantic as her movements were, and as clumsy as she got when she was flustered: her aim was clear when it came to farming.

“You really are a skilled at this,” he said. In spite of his earlier comment, he picked up Annie’s watering can and followed behind her, carefully watering where she planted. “Perhaps this serves as testament to the fact we’re both better suited to the fields we’re in.”

Something passed across Annie’s face, the bluster left her movements; her gaze more thoughtful than embarrassed.

“What is it?” Mistel asked.

“You’ve really changed, you know.”

“Elaborate?”

“Like that,” Annie said, gesturing toward the watering can. “You’re more thoughtful now. Not just some lonely and stuffy guy living in the middle of nowhere.”

…Beg pardon? “ _Lonely and stuffy_?”

Annie backpedaled. “Not in a bad way! That’s just always how you felt to me. Like, ‘oh there’s Mistel, all alone in the stuffy antique shop again with his dust bunnies and empty feedback jar’ you know?”

“I…don’t believe I do.”

“Ah, that came out sounding really bad. I mean, you were always Iris’s really _cute_ brother, you know, but you were just so _tense–_ ”

“Somehow, your words are not helping me here.”

“Ah…nooo…” Annie stopped planting. She wiped her forehead, leaving a small muddy trail in her hand’s wake. “My foot’s really in my mouth. Again. I’m trying to say– I mean. I don’t think I made the best first impression either. I like, failed every single one of your games.”

“You did. Miserably,” Mistel recalled. “I was trying to find a common interest for us, since you had become so close with Iris, but you were so unapologetically awful at spotting valuable antiques it was honestly a whole other kind of remarkable.”

“If it’s shiny, it’s gotta be expensive, Mistel!” Annie argued, and Mistel’s face must have been telling, because she immediately burst out laughing. Mistel found himself joining her. Ridiculous. She was ridiculous.

Still smiling, Annie nudged his shoulder. “So maybe we didn’t have the best first impressions. I don’t mind, seeing how it turned out.”

When Annie leaned against him, Mistel’s arms wrapped around her like they were meant to. Annie’s hand covered his own, and Mistel tangled their fingers. Their rings clinked against each other in a way that was unspeakably satisfying. Mistel mumbled into Annie’s hair. “Perhaps…I might have been lonely. And stuffy.”

“I might have been a mess,” Annie replied. “ _Maybe_.”

“You have mud on your face, right now,” Mistel pointed out.

“I usually do. Comes with the territory.”

“You do, and it does. One moment, let me get my handkerchief.”

Annie grumbled, but allowed Mistel to release her. His satchel was a few meters away, next to the water pump. He could hear Annie tossing the rest of the seeds on the soil behind him. He rinsed off his hands, not wanting to dirty the inside of his bag– it was an antique after all. When he looked up, she was gone.

“Annie?”

“Over here!”

Mistel blinked, scanned the field and looked...down?

Annie was laying in the pasture, arms behind her head. The sun shined on her, brighter than it had any right to. Something in Mistel weakened and liquified.

“What are you doing, Annie?”

“The grass is warm. Come join me, this is my absolute favorite time of day!”

Mistel was supposed to tidy up the shop tonight. If he spent any more time here, he’d have to do all the cleaning tomorrow morning, before opening and that seldom went well. It was time to say his goodbyes for the night. Responsibilities above all else– that was him.

“Mistel?” Annie asked.

“I’m coming,” Mistel replied, without hesitation.

Maybe just this once, the empty shop could wait. For now, he was going to take a nap next to the woman he loved. He sat, fussing with his caplet. Would the grass stain? After a few minutes of fiddling, Annie grabbed his hand and tugged him down beside her.

“Annie!”

“Hush and look at the sunset, Mistel.”

Mistel grunted and sunk back into the soft, warm grass. Annie’s hand brushed his. He took it; held it over his heart, playing with her ring. The sun was sinking beneath the clouds in an array of purples and pinks. Annie was right: it was beautiful.

It was quiet too, still and wonderful; that is, until something inside of Annie’s backpack croaked.

“Oh, whoops,” Annie said. “Sorry, I meant to sell that.”

Mistel only laughed, tightening his grip on her mud-covered hand.


End file.
